


Let Me Hold You

by MosImagination



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Cancer, Dying Sherlock, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Sad Ending, Sad John, elderlock, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MosImagination/pseuds/MosImagination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was sick, he'd always been sick. But now he was riddled with cancer and slowly dying.<br/>What will John Watson do during the impending lost of the love of his life. <br/>This story is when they are older, I call it Elderlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Hold You

**Author's Note:**

> This short story fanfic is dedicated to a friend of mine. Go check out her stories! http://civil-war-casualty.deviantart.com/

Sherlock was sick. He'd always been sick. At his age, 58, and I being 65, we should be old and weak but not this much. I was watching the love of my life die.  
Sherlock would not stay in the hospital, he had said that he wanted me to always be there. So the doctors helped set the Flat up to accommodate my sick husband. Sherlock most of the time laid in the hospital bed near the window, his eyes usually closed as he slept. But sometimes he would open them and look towards me, reaching out to grab my hand, and I would be there. I would hold my lovers thin hand, rubbing my thick warm ones over his boney cold hands. I would pepper them with kisses, making sherlocks pale cracked lips smile. I loved when he smiled towards me. Sherlock was painfully thin, pale as snow, and his beautiful black hair was light grey. He was still the light of my simple world.

 

Sherlock and I were never blessed a with children unlike Mycroft and Greg who adopted a beautiful little boy when they were on their honey moon in Ireland. His name was Lukas. Sherlock had said he wasn't ready, I understood. But now watching my husbands weak body, I almost wished we had adopted so I would have someone to look at and practically see Sherlock again. Mycroft had passed away at the age of 76, he had passed away in his sleep besides Greg. Greg is still alive, he is 78, and Lukas is 25. Greg is still mourning the loss of Mycroft, but he knew he would see him again soon.

 

I still remember when Sherlock had found out he was sick. We had been going to the doctors to get a physical, make sure all was in order. Sherlock had fought with me, telling me he didn't want to know he wanted to live and spend each day not knowing with me. I had gone in first, I was healthy besides Osteoarthritis (arthritis in my hip). I sat down and waited for Sherlock, but instead of himself coming out, a nurse came out with the doctor. The doctor looked at me "hello Mr. Watson-Holmes. I am troubled to tell you this it seems Sherlock Watson-Holmes May have a tumor in his lung." But after more research we found out it wasn't just one, sherlocks lungs add many tumors, he was suffering from lung cancer. He had been..for more then twenty years but he'd never told me. He was 56 when we found the lung tumors. And 57 when we found his brain tumor. 

 

Sherlock had cancer, in two delicate places, his brilliant brain, and his lungs. I was broken, but Sherlock was there, telling me that he was sorry. I remembered when I found Sherlock poking at the bookshelf, I didn't see what he was doing but he had been up to something. I walked to him and wrapped my arms around him and kissed his shoulder carefully, "come on Sherlock, lay down.." I had whispered. He had leaned weakly into me, he had just started chemo when this occurred. He wasn't as weak as he was now. I laid with him that night, our bodies tangled again like they always had been. He was beautiful then and still is now. 

 

Now I stared at my husband, his back was towards me as he laid in the bed by the window, he was sleeping like he often did. I smiled weakly and readjusted my little glasses before turning back around to continue to make sherlocks food. Sherlock rarely ate, but if I pleaded enough he would eat the soup and drink down some water at least one or two times a day. I walked to him with the tray of food and and sat besides the bed, "Sherlock honey, come on I have your food." Sherlock rolled over and looked up towards him, I leaned down and kissed him, making the sick male smile again. I sat up and got a spoonful of the broth and helped Sherlock take a sip of the warned broth, Sherlock closed his eyes as he swallowed. "Was that good?" I questioned him, Sherlock nods "p-perfect..." His dry voice whispered to me. 

 

The next few days with Sherlock were calming, he was always sleeping. Sometimes I would pick him up and carry him to our room and lay with him. I made sure he was always in thicker clothing to make sure he was nice a warm. I laid in bed asleep not noticing he had somehow got up and left the bed. When I woke up I went into a panic, I stood up and called his name as I begun crying. I hurried down the stairs to find him standing in the kitchen, he seemed to either be looking for something or gazing towards the features, like to have something to remember. I limped to him and grabbed his shoulders, crying as I looked into his eyes. "Sherlock.. What are you doing..?!" Sherlock looked at me with wide eyes, slowly cupping my cheeks and gazing into my eyes. "J-john.....I'm sorry.." He wiped away my tears and kissed me, leaning into me. 

 

I had taken him back to bed with me, holding his hands tightly as we laid together. I wish I could have known this would have been the end. I woke up the next morning to find Sherlock struggling for breath, he he looked at me and gasped and wheezed. I sat up and pulled him into my lap, holding his hands and whispering sweet words to him, something that often calmed him down and helped him created even breaths. But this time it did not happen, "john..." He croaked out helplessly to me. "I love y-you..." He whispered and tightened his grip on my hand. I knew this was it, so I leaned down and kissed him, I felt him smile and take his last weak breath before letting go and turning limp in my arms. I cried and screamed as I held my dead husband after calling 911. It was like getting my heart carved from my chest and getting it grabbed and pulled from me. The medics took him from me, and that was it. They got me someone to talk to but I couldn't. 

 

The funeral had been simple, just like how Sherlock would have wanted it. No one really came, just me, Greg, and Lukas. I looked down at him when he was in the dark wooden casket, I placed a small picture of our wedding day in his cold hands and smiled to him. "I'll see you again very soon.." I had whispered, this being the last time I'd find myself looking at the love of my life until I passed and met him again. I went home that day and sat in my chair, eyes focusing on Sherlock worn out black leather chair. I smiled lightly and sighed, before closing my eyes and relaxing. 

 

I didn't eat, that day or the next, or the days to come after that. I laid in my bed and slept, I remembered often finding myself pulling out sherlocks dark blue scarf and laying it by me as I slept. It smelled like him, and reminded me off him. He used to wear it when we'd leave the house, he knew how much I liked it, I made sure to always get him a new one for Christmas, and he'd get me a new jumper. Sometimes a Christmas themed one, or just a simple, beautiful jumper. We had been married for thirty years, it would have been our thirty first year that fall, we were only five months away. That morning I felt the need to make tea, I opened the tea jar to find a small slip of paper. I pulled it out a opened it, what I found brought me to tears.

"Dearest John, 

I know I'll be leaving you soon, I feel it with each passing day.. But I can't thank you enough for the thirty years I was blessed with when it came to us. Because of this tumor I can't remember much but I remembered that you have used the same tea for the past thirty years. And you do love your tea. I love you John Hamish Watson-Holmes and I'll be seeing you soon.

-Sherlock Watson-Holmes."

A note, he had left me a note! This is why I found him in here the night before his passing, he was leaving me a note. But, was this the only one? I clutched the letter to my chest before kissing the paper tenderly. I remembered something, a flash that stained my weak brain, maybe a month ago I had found him at the book shelf, I hurried to it, limping on my bad leg. In a flash I begun ripping books off the shelf, they clattered to the floor. Soon enough I found two envelopes, I smiled tearfully and carefully stepped through the mess of books and sat myself down on my red fabric chair, opening the first I found another letter. 

"John,  
I know I am loosing my thoughts and memories but I've kept many pictures with me and stare at them each time I'm awake. I'm pretty sure the memories are still within my cancer ridden brain. I love you John Watson-Holmes. In the second envelope are the six pictures I hold dearly.

Love forever,   
Sherlock Watson-Holmes"

A tear slipped down my wrinkly cheek and splashed onto the paper, making a few of the words bleed. My lip quivered as I set that note down and pulled up the second envelope, smiling sadly at the sight of the six pictures. I lifted them up and stared at the first picture, It was of Sherlock and I when we were on our first date. He was smiling wider then ever and holding my hand, and I was staring up at him with my own smile. I pushed the photo behind the stack and gazed at the second, it it was a picture of when I purposed to Sherlock. We had be at a Easter party in the flat, everyone had come and I had surprised Sherlock by giving him a ring for his gift. He had been so confused till I kneeled down in front of him. The third picture showed Sherlock and I at our wedding, the picture captured the moment were connected our lips for the first time as husbands. I smiled and kissed the photo before pulling the forth out, the photo was of the Christmas we each bought each other ugly Christmas sweaters. His was of a large penguin tied up in a strand on lights, which you could really turn on. Mine was green with santas face right on it, candy canes surrounding his face like a candy reef. I smiled at how happy sherlock was, he was tucked up against me, half his face buried into my neck but you could still see the bright smile that lit up his delicate face. I slowly flipped to the fifth, this one our 20th anniversary, we were sitting with all our friends, Molly and her husband Carl with their two child, one 17 and the other 16. Then there was Mycroft and Lestrade, with their 15 year old boy, Lukas. Sherlock looked tired, but happy. Then I pulled up the sixth, this photo was the most recent, it was from Sherlock first day in chemo. He was resting in my arms, you could already see how weak he was, he was skinny, he'd already begun loosing his appetite from the treatments. This stack of photos was what kept Sherlock going, they helped him remember it all. I kissed the stack and slowly put them in the pocket of my jacket. I would hold them till the day I die. 

He was gone, and he had been gone for two months, within those two months I had found six letters, I find three a month, scared one day I'd finally find the very last note. I was beginning to drift away with each passing day. I laid silently in the bed, holding the six letters that Sherlock had left for me, I smiled with my cracked lips and kissed each one. I soon blacked out and laid still. 

Lestrade must have come over to check on me because I woke up in the hospital with him by my side. He smiled weakly and held my thick hands, "John..I feared you'd never wake again." Greg watched john with sad and tender eyes, "I know the Holmes boys are gone, but they are still here and we will always have them." John gave a small nod and smiled back, "do you know where they put my letters?" His voice cracked weakly as Greg pulled out a ziploc bag full of the delicately crafted letters. "Here." He set the bag into johns hands and watched how the distressed male opened it and pulled out one of the pictures. The frail man held the picture of Sherlock and him after his first chemo treatment. Greg smiled, "look at you two." He hummed and watched how john smiled and kissed the picture. Greg cleared his throat and pulled out a letter from his back pocket. "I came to see you today..because Sherlock gave me this letter one day..he said not to give it to you till he was gone." John looked towards the envelope, he reached out a hand towards it and Greg set it into johns hand. "Here.." John slowly opened it to find two long pieces of lined paper covered in sherlocks smooth writing. 

"Dear My John Watson,

Since you are reading this then most likely I am gone, well at least if Greg Lestrade keeps his promise. John, I would like to say sorry. I apologize for all the items in the fridge, all the constant experiments, and for not having a family with you. I wish we could have adopted or at least talked more about it. But I mostly apologize for being riddled with cancer. I wanted to always be with you, but what I did in my early years will haunt me through this painful cancer. John, you are truly a one of a kind man, you are the one who accepted me when it seemed like no one else would, I was alone for many years in my childhood. I had no friends for many years, my parents were strict on a lot of things so I didn't get many toys. So I practically lived in my bedroom, reading books, that filled my brain with all the knowledge they read out.

But the day I met you my lonely old self seemed to disappear the moments our eyes met. You had welcomed me and everything I had to offer, you said I was brilliant...I will never forget it. Now I vaguely remember how stubborn you were, you kept saying you were not gay, I've come to the decision that you had problems when you were younger with your sexuality. I understand. 

John besides the cancer, the most painful thing is knowing that I will be leaving you on your own. I wish this could have never happened, but if it would have never have occurred there might have been a chance that our love could have never have occurred.

Sadly, I'd rather take this pain rather then the pain of not having you.

I love you John Hamish Watson.

Your Lover,  
Sherlock Holmes"

Johns heart ached at the letter, he smiled weakly at Lestrade and held the letter close. Greg slowly stood, bones aching as he did, "John, stay safe and call whenever, they will discharge you tomorrow." John watched as Greg left, he held onto all the objects left behind from Sherlock has he laid in the hospital bed, eyes still focused on the door as they began to slip close just as Johns last breath slipped from his mouth. Johns heart monitor went to a loud, constant beep. And there he went. 

John Watson passed away two months after Sherlocks own death.   
It was said he died of heart ache, like his heart had finally broken. 

 

~~


End file.
